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What a week! I had decided to schedule my five-day IVIG transfusion (an immune system transfusion to treat my myasthenia gravis) over Labor Day weekend. It was convenient because the kids were out of school for a couple of days, and I thought it'd be a great opportunity to rest and let the roughly $19,000 of IV stuff do its work.
On the fourth day of the transfusion, I was sitting there hooked up, with my feet up, when I started to feel a cramp in my right calf. I told the nurse about it, and she said it was no big deal - take some Advil and it'd be fine.
On the fifth day, the cramp was worse and hurt every time I put weight on the leg. This time I called the neurologist who was in charge of the IVIG treatment. The neuro also said the same thing - take Advil (and go away??)
The next day, Wednesday, the pain was really getting severe. I decided to see my internist, but he was unable to see me that day. Two days later, on Friday, he took one look at my leg and said, "You need to go to the ER NOW - it's not safe to treat you in a clinical setting." He suspected a blood clot in my leg.
At the ER, I was given a duplex ultrasound which confirmed the diagnosis of a huge deep vein thrombosis going from just above the ankle to just below the knee in my tibial vein. The vein was one hundred percent occluded.
"You want me to do WHAT?" I exclaimed to the ER nurse, who was showing me how to give myself an injection of heparin in the tummy, which I would have to do twice a day to prevent further clotting. I was released to go home with a brown paper bag of syringes and pills.
Although I cringed at the thought, I managed to give myself the shots. After all, I told myself, diabetics have to do this every day - and if they can do it I can.
On Monday morning, I experienced pain above my knee. I called the internist, who sent me for a repeat ultrasound. This time I was not allowed to go home. I was immediately admitted for IV heparin treatment because the clot had grown to the popliteal vein above the knee. As it turned out, the blood clot was caused by the IV transfusion which made my blood clot too easily.
At this point I was simultaneously very near panic and deadly calm. I never cried. I sat in my hospital bed, terrified to move my leg, bedecked with very attractive white thigh-high compression stockings. I patiently answered the resident physician's questions while wanting to scream on the inside. The resident asked, "How did you know the clot had extended?" to which I proffered the humorous response, "I'm psychic." She didn't laugh, so I gave her the real answer.
The next six days were a time of complete reflection on my mortality, eternity, the issues surrounding my teenagers, my four schnauzers, my sister, my friends, and my husband. I went through numerous blood draws (by some woefully inept technicians) and ended up with a new superficial blood clot in my right arm from a needle injury. Other than that the stay was uneventful. I was released the following Friday, again with a paper bag full of a different kind of heparin injections, this time every eight hours.
When my blood level of coumadin (a blood thinner) was adequate, I was allowed to discontinue the shots. The only other followup activities were frequent blood draws and being fitted for thigh high compression stockings. Those are another story!!
This experience taught me so much! Although I had been through many surgeries and medical problems before, this was the first time I really looked mortality right in the face. A deep vein thrombosis can break off and go to your lungs at any time. I can only equate the experience to having a loaded gun pointed to your head for two weeks. All I could pray was "Not now, God - please!"
Facing this new reality taught me that the small stuff really IS small stuff. It gave me a great deal of insight into what IS important to me.
It even taught me the value of pet visits to the hospital! I was in the lobby one lonely evening and through the door marched a parade of therapy dogs with their owners, all dressed in their little bandannas and outfits! Being a dog lover, and missing my own furkids so much, seeing them and being allowed to love on them for a few moments was pure joy. I am planning, when I am more healthy, to enroll one of my schnauzers in a therapy dog program.
Most of all, it taught me the real meaning of thanking God for a new day.
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